Rambling Chantrix

“I did okay?”

“You’re a natural,” she giggled. “I just didn’t want to cum yet.”

“Not yet?” I asked, teasing, confidence buoyed.

“Nah.” She smiled salaciously. “I wanna cum with your cock in me and your hands around my throat.”

“I love you, V.”

She responded by leaning closer and kissing me forcefully, her tongue pushing between my lips. I responded in kind, best as I could, but honestly my mouth was a bit tired after all the cunnilingus, and she pretty much ravaged me with her tongue. Which was, in a word, amazing. I felt opened, like my body had been unzipped and was falling away, letting me roam unfettered into a spiritual realm of pleasure and connectedness.

When she ran out of breath, she drew back and smiled again. “That was kinda fun, like eating myself out. Hope you don’t mind the taste.”

I didn’t, and I said as much.

She kissed me again, gently, briefly. “You know I love you too.”

I nodded and wrapped my arms around her, alternately rubbing her back with my palms and then locking my hands together and just squeezing her against me. She groaned appreciatively and shifted her body against me, deepening the embrace, applying greater pressure to my cock.

“Guess we should get on it before you pop,” she observed as I twitched against her belly.

“Yeah.”

Before you raise your eyebrows and come at me about safe sex, remember that we already had a sexual encounter the night before. Yes, I was in her. No, we didn’t use a condom. She was on the pill, and while all these things had come together a little too spontaneously for us to do the adult thing and get new STD screenings done before fucking, like, she’d had only one partner for over a year, and it had been about that long since I’d seen anyone, and we were both fairly sure we hadn’t contracted anything new since our last respective tests, and we trusted each other pretty implicitly at this point.

That should hopefully be the last aside for now.

She pushed herself up onto all fours, allowing my cock some breathing room, slid forward, titties pleasantly spilling into my face, reached between her legs to grab my cock, and then slid back slowly, pushing me between her folds as her ass sank onto my lap.

“Welcome back,” she giggled.

I had nothing clever to say to that, so I just flexed my hips a bit, trying to push up into her, none too strongly given the state of my back.

“Relax,” she urged. “Let me just ride you a bit.”

So she did, gently.

The things I remember from this moment are potent, visceral. The slow rise and fall of her hips, the friction on my cock and thighs, her palms on my chest supporting her weight, the indelible jiggle of her titties as her own chest heaved, a heady scent I couldn’t identify, and a deep throbbing somewhere inside me.

I was a contradiction, at once the essence of calm as Vivian bore down on me, forcing my body to relax and give itself up to her, at once taken with a fundamental and urgent need.

After some time—I have no idea how much, my senses were reeling, and my internal clock is never that good anyway—I began flexing my hips again, and Vivian started squeezing me, tightening her pussy around my cock. From the playful look in her eyes I could tell that she was further from her own orgasm, that she was trying to elicit my own.

“I want you to cum,” I protested, but she hushed me with a moist finger on my lips.

“I’ve already had dozens of orgasms with you,” she said, panting slightly as she bounced up and down. “I haven’t given you a single one yet.”

I opened my mouth to remind her that she’d wanted to cum with my cock in her and my hands around her throat, but she cut me off.

“I’ll get there fast,” she said. “You know how I am. Fill me, then grab me. It’ll be great.”

I took her word for it and put my hands on her hips. I got into her rhythm. I thrust up as she thrust down. She ground on my cock with the extra force from my hands. The feeling was incredible as I sped toward orgasm.

I looked up expectantly.

“Say it,” she said. Her smile was wide, almost beatific, strangely serene. She was rocking her hips but somehow held her upper body still, her weight stable in her arms on my chest. “Vocalize it.”

“I’m going to cum, Vivian,” I moaned. “I’m going to cum in you.”

“Yes,” she said simply, and a few strokes later I was gone, my heart bursting through my conception of my body as I let the sperm escape me. Somehow my hands held onto her hips, pushing Vivian down on me as I sought to release as deep within her as possible.

Through blurring vision I could tell her flush was deepening again. When I was done ejaculating I reached up, trembling for the effort, and gently held her neck. She sat back, weight fully on my lap, and put both hands at our junction, one rubbing furiously at her clit.

“My turn RC,” she whispered breathlessly. “I’m gonna cum so hard.”

It was my turn to smile as I assisted her to climax. I felt like jelly, but I did everything to keep my fingers on the sides of her neck. Her eyes rolled back as she had a shuddering orgasm. She flopped forward onto me, so soft and warm, and then she started to laugh.

If I hadn’t seen her cum dozens of times already, I might have asked if it was good. I didn’t need to, though. I knew it was.

“That was gorgeous,” said Barry, bleary-eyed in the doorway.

I hadn’t noticed him until now, and a brief flirtation with panic ensued. The last speck of standard decency in me seized up. Here I was, balls deep in his girlfriend, my cum leaking out of her pussy and onto my sheets, both of us flimsy with post-orgasm bliss.

Instead of caving to the impulse to cover up or make excuses, however, I forced myself to remember his tacit approval from the night before, and with that, I annihilated that final speck. Barry’s cock was red and swollen, at attention, jutting out from his body.

Lying on my back, holding Vivian’s quaking body in my arms, I simply turned my head sideways on the pillow and opened my mouth.

“Alriight,” Barry chuckled.

He stepped over to the edge of my bed, and my God I am so happy I got these risers, because it didn’t take much adjustment for him to just lean forward and slide his cock between my lips.

I did have some cock-sucking experience, but it didn’t really come into play. I was weak, exhausted in my post-coital state. I just lay there and let him use my mouth. Sure, I tried to keep my teeth out of the way, but he did most of the work. Here and there I worked some tongue in, but it was still tired from exploring Vivian’s pussy, and Barry didn’t seem like he needed too much encouragement anyway.

He palmed my head with his right hand. His left hand was on the base of Vivian’s neck, massaging her there. She moaned in appreciation as Barry made his own appreciative noises, clearly enjoying fucking my mouth.

For my part, I grew hard again, still somehow inside Vivian. She lazily rolled her ass around in a circle, a languorous investigation into my capability to go a second round.

To my surprise, that capability existed.

Vivian slowly pushed herself up and kissed Barry as she ground down on me.

At this point, my sense of time was completely gone, as was my proprioception. I melted into some kind of arrhythmic exchange with my two flatmates, my cock deep inside Vivian, Barry’s deep inside me, all of us panting at odd intervals. Having recovered a bit from my first orgasm, I became a more active participant in my blowjob, applying some suction, pulling Barry in. This was pleasant, and it was validating to hear his grunts of approval, but honestly it was also just super nice to let him use my face, and that’s what I mostly did.

As I became harder and felt my second load preparing for ejection, I could also sense Barry’s cock thickening and throbbing in my mouth.

Somehow, Vivian noticed it too.

“Put it on me, B,” she pleaded.

I felt a little robbed as Barry slid out of my mouth, but that feeling dissipated as he came in powerful spurts between Vivian’s titties. His cum trickled slowly down to her belly, strengthening my own arousal, and she smiled at me.

“That make you about ready?” she asked.

I nodded, and she pushed herself backward, off of me, kneeling between my thighs as my cock emerged.

“Nice, right?” she asked Barry, and he agreed by taking hold of it.

Vivian leaned forward, and with a few strong pumps Barry had me cumming on her titties, my ejaculate joining his. His hand was soft, warm, comforting. He kept pumping after the first shot, and I don’t remember much after that, so, at risk of editorializing:

As the last of my second orgasm washed over me, I passed out.

#

When I woke up, Vivian was gone, off to work presumably. I took a long shower, and then sat down with Barry on the couch. I was lightly dressed, and he, as usual, was nude.

“I’m not gay,” he said, somewhat standoffishly.

I thought that was a bizarre thing to say. He’d just been balls deep in my mouth, and then he’d jerked me off onto his girlfriend’s tits. I was puzzled as to his angle, and I expressed that.

“I mean look, RC, you’re hot, and I like you a lot, but I think that says more about you than it does about me.”

“I don’t follow,” I said. I was getting defensive, perhaps to my discredit. The whole overture took me off guard.

“I’m not looking to take dick in my ass,” he said firmly, as if refusing a menu option at a restaurant.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not gay,” I protested.

“Yeah well nutting in your mouth doesn’t mean I am.”

I pointed out that he had yet to do that, and, I think in some bizarre fit of defiance the likes of which I had never seen from him before, he grabbed the back of my head and drew me down to swallow him.

I enjoyed my second time blowing him. His hand never left the back of my head, but he also wasn’t particularly forceful. This wasn’t a throat fuck like earlier. I was able to apply some technique and control the pace. I put one hand on his thigh and the other on his balls. In short order, I had him shooting into my mouth.

Now, I say I enjoyed it, but I didn’t get super turned on. I think I was still worn out from our morning theatrics. There was a dull ache in my cock but it didn’t harden fully. I didn’t feel the need to get off. I wondered, briefly, if maybe Barry had yet to cross my demi threshold, but then I remembered the need with which I had opened up to him earlier. I swallowed his jizz, set my befuddlement at Barry’s comments aside, and smiled.

“Call yourself what you want, but we should do this again sometime.”

He grunted and went back to watching metal music videos.

His disinterest in intentionally exploring his own sexuality, coupled with the ease with which he used me, sent a shiver down my spine.

#

There was no more discussion. There was nothing else to work out.

Vivian came home from work with fried chicken, stripped, and sat on Barry’s cock while we shared dinner on the couch. I finished my meal first—advantage of not fucking—and then I knelt between their legs and licked them. I got Vivian’s clit, I got Barry’s shaft as she bounced, I got his balls. After the salty, greasy food, the moist skin of my friends’ genitals was a welcome change. They came like that, her riding him, me lapping away, and I got a generous helping of both of their fluids.

We cleaned up dinner and ourselves and watched Terminator 2.

Halfway through the movie, Vivian started stroking me through my jeans. I scooted forward, lifted my butt, and slid my pants down to my ankles. She blew me to orgasm.

These exchanges—already commonplace between Vivian and Barry—became the fabric of our friendship, of our life together.

I joined them in being nude around the house, not because I especially loved being nude for nudity’s sake, but because constantly changing became onerous. I didn’t want to have to choose between getting my clothes dirty or spending a minute removing them when Vivian was already bent over the kitchen table, spreading her pussy with both hands. I wanted to just get inside her, to fuck myself silly in her pussy.

Vivian initiated most of our encounters, and Barry initiated some. I initiated none. And I didn’t always join in. Sometimes they would fuck right in front of me and I would get a little hard but I would just watch. Or sometimes I would hold one of their hands, or Vivian’s neck, but not participate further. They liked that, I think, because voyeurs and participants are different entities.

Even when I didn’t join in, though, I was still aroused. Vivian and Barry were hot and I loved them.

Months flew by like this, with no explicit discussion of boundaries or relationships. They were still a couple; I was still single. Barry was still “straight.” We left a bunch of things unaddressed in favor of ease. We all loved each other, and we all enjoyed each other’s bodies, but if someone had asked me what we were, I would have been unable to answer.

I can tell you now, because we’ve worked a few things out in the intervening year.

A lot has become clearer.

But rather than explain it all right here, I think I’ll save the clarifications—and all the kinky sex leading up to them—for another day. I’ve left some hints and foreshadowing here and there, though, so feel free to come up with your own theories. I’ll just say three more things.

First, when Barry said he wasn’t gay, he didn’t mean what you probably think he meant. He was denying *something*, for sure, and he didn’t do it gracefully, but it wasn’t something about himself, and I’m now quite certain he’s no homophobe.

Second, thank you for reading this. I trust that if you’ve made it this far despite my incessant rambling, you found it enjoyable.

Third, the three of us still live together, and I have to go, because Barry’s waving that thick cock of his in my face and I don’t want to upset him. Toodles!